


Spock's Brain

by Nope



Category: Everwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-01
Updated: 2003-10-01
Packaged: 2018-10-31 18:11:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10904700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nope/pseuds/Nope
Summary: Colin undergoes surgery.





	Spock's Brain

_(iwantyoutocountbackwards)_  
  
"Ten...  
  
Nine...  
  
Eight..."  
  
Shot-clock ticking. Colin counts it down, under his breath. Slides across the court. One defender. Two. Fakes a pass. Jersey sticks, sweat slick. Bounces the ball from hand to hand, behind his back. Takes the lay-up. Two step and jump. The ball rolls off his fingers, smooth and sure.  
  
"Five...  
  
Four..."  
  
"And the crowd goes wild," says Bright.  
  
Colin frowns. The ball falls through the hoop, bounces down the drive.  
  
"Three points," says Bright, picks the ball out of the air, bounces, misses, takes the rebound off the rim and sinks it. "You win."  
  
"Yeah," says Colin. "Is it time?"  
  
"It's time to eat," says Bright. Snaps off a chest-pass. Colin fumbles a one-handed catch, recovers. Bright holds the door open, waiting.  
  
"This is my house," says Colin. "Shouldn't I be holding the door for you?"  
  
"Nah," says Bright and says "Ladies first" and also "oof" as the ball hits him in the stomach. Colin laughs, dodging past him. They both laugh. Everyone's laughing. Five laughing faces at the table and two in the hall.  
  
Jack putting too much butter on his vegetables. Sharon nudging him. Amy rolling her eyes. Rose hiding her laughter in her drink. Doctor Abbott, lecturing with his napkin tucked into the collar of his sweater.  
  
Colin sits next to Amy, who smiles and touches his jacket. Bright sits to his left, already reaching to snag rolls from the basket in the center of the table.  
  
"Did I miss anything good?" Colin asks.  
  
"Just the usual," says Amy. "Dad's on a roll."  
  
"We're thinking of having him set to music," says Rose.  
  
"Mock me as you may," begins Harold.  
  
"Which we will," agrees Bright. "Pass the veg?"  
  
"I'm merely stating a valid concern: while I might trust the doctor to remove a splinter or lance a boil," Harold says, bowl of potatoes in one hand, emphatic spoon waving in the other, "I do not believe he has the knowledge to restore a brain."  
  
"Dad!" whines Amy.  
  
"The skill does not yet exist in the galaxy," insists Harold.  
  
"Yes, dear," says Rose, patting him on the arm. "Eat it while it's hot."  
  
"I'd like some potatoes, too," says Amy, looking at Colin.  
  
"A little respect," mutters Harold.  
  
"Uh, Doctor Abbot?" says Colin. "Amy would like some potatoes."  
  
Sharon spoons a small portion on to the plate next to him.  
  
"There you go." She speaks through an indulgent smile. "For 'Amy'."  
  
Jack just shakes his head. "Aren't you a little old for imaginary friends, son?"  
  
"Jack!" says Sharon. "Leave him alone!"  
  
"Oh, they're not..." Colin turns, listening. "Can you hear that?"  
  
There is music playing. A tune he recognizes. Almost. He gets up from the table.  
  
"They're so cute when they're that age." Sharon smiles, but her eyes are sad. Jack puts his arm around her. They watch Colin walk deeper into the house.  
  
The music fades before he can place it and he turns and turns through corridors and doors and sometimes almost catches it again; only for it to fade once more. Just before he is completely lost, Colin hears:  
  
"His vascular anatomy is too torturous for a sagittal approach. I have to go in transversally."  
  
Colin follows the voices.  
  
"Because the sub-occipital opened?"  
  
As he gets closer he thinks maybe it's just the one voice, but he's not really sure. He turns a last corner to hear:  
  
"Giving him exposure to the basilar artery."  
  
Doctor Brown is sat on a wide landing, stairs going up and down on either side, facing half a chessboard in front of a mirror.  
  
"Mmm hmm. And then?" asks Andy.  
  
For a moment, Colin thinks he is being addressed, but the doctor is already replying to the mirror.  
  
"And then dissection to remove the semi-circular canal, drilling the mastoid--"  
  
Andy moves a pawn on the board. "--avoiding any damage to the facial nerve.  
  
"Which is why I dissect around the nerve and transpose it.  
  
"What if there's bleeding?" asks Andy. He stares at the board. Touches his fingers to the king, but does not move him. Looks up.  
  
"Doctor Brown?" asks Colin. "Are you okay?"  
  
"Brain and brain!" Andy slams his fist down on the desk. The chess pieces shake. "What is brain?"  
  
The doctor stares at him out of the mirror. Colin backs away. Turns. There is a door before him, so he takes it. Blinks in the sudden light.  
  
"They saved Walt Disney's brain," says Delia.  
  
Ephram pats her on the head as he passes, response muffled around a slice of pizza. His top says Brooklyn. Delia says:  
  
"No, really! They keep it underground in this big glass box? With all these lights? And it runs, like, the whole park! All those creepy puppet things."  
  
She swings her feet against the kitchen table. They bang, rhythmic and hollow on the wood. Thump thump.  
  
Thump thump.  
  
Thump thump.  
  
Thump thump.  
  
"That's enough of that," says a woman, sitting opposite. She smiles across at Colin. "Hello, there."  
  
"Um... Hi... Should I know you?" asks Colin. He looks around, looks back, shrugs an apology. "I have notes somewhere."  
  
"Oh, we never met. In fact," says Julia, "I disappeared right around the time you woke up." She makes finger quotes when she says "you".  
  
Colin is still trying to think of something to say when Delia gives a happy little squeal.  
  
"Bright!" exclaims Delia, jumping down to her feet, smiling ear to ear. "Hello, Bright! Look everyone, it's Bright!"  
  
"Hey, Delia," says Bright, a tall sheepish smile in the doorway. "Hey, Mrs. B."  
  
"Hello, Bright," says Julia. "How was the game?"  
  
"Fast break from the forty yard line," he says.  
  
"Have a cookie," says she. He grabs a handful from the plate.  
  
"Oh!" says Delia. "We have to go! We're running out of time."  
  
"Colin could stay with me," says Julia. "Wouldn't you like that, Colin?"  
  
"Colin can't stay here," says Bright, grabbing Colin's hand. "He will not stay."  
  
"Then we'll take him with us," says Delia, tugging on Colin's other hand.  
  
They pull him out of the room into a grey-green corridor that stretches forever, running through the echoes of their footsteps.  
  
"Take him where?" asks Colin, struggling to keep up.  
  
"In search of--" But the rest of the sentence is lost. Delia rushes through a door, Bright on her heels. When Colin opens it, there's no one there. No one at all. An empty bed in an empty room. Starched whites turned down. Green curtain left half open. Colin touches the bed. Somewhere, an alarm sounds.  
  
He thinks maybe it's the PA. A voice is saying,  
  
"It burst. Damn! Let's go. Come on people let's go. I want as many gel foams as quickly as possible, okay? As fast as you can bring them to me keep 'em coming. I'm gonna stuff this sucker. That's good, that's good."  
  
Over it, Colin hears that music playing again. Maybe not exactly the same, but the same tune, anyway. A variation on a theme.  
  
The PA voice says, "Here we go, here we go. Slowing it down. Again, good job, good job. Here we go. Come on baby. Come on buddy. Slow it up, good job. Here we go."  
  
Colin pushes the curtain all the way open. There's another door here. It has a small, yellow note stuck to it. It reads "Open Me". Colin does.  
  
The music gets louder. It's Ephram. Ephram's playing the piano. Amy's squeezed in beside him on the music bench. Bright and Delia are on the floor. She's wearing a black cap with NY on the brow. The N is back to front.  
  
"What are you playing?" asks Colin.  
  
"The piano, dummy," says Delia, not looking up.  
  
"We're coloring," says Bright. "With crayons." He waggles a finger at Colin. "It's very important to stay between the lines."  
  
"Ephram," insists Colin. "What are you playing?"  
  
"Medulla oblongata in A Minor," says Ephram. Amy giggles.  
  
Colin frowns. "What are you playing?"  
  
"Can you tell me how to get," Bright sings off-key, conducting Ephram with a blue wax crayon, "how to get to Sesame Street?"  
  
Amy laughs. It sounds, harsh like a bell. It is a bell. Ringing. Colin opens the door under it and peers in.  
  
At the front of the classroom, the teacher -- whose name he should know he knows, it's on the tip of his tongue -- is saying, "...and, as you know, they saved Hitler's brain for the interest of future generations."  
  
He swears he doesn't make a noise, but all eyes turn towards him anyway.  
  
The teacher waves him in. "Hurry up, Colin; you're late. We've saved you a seat."  
  
He looks around. There is an empty desk in the middle of the room, so he sits at it. He looks around. Ephram, sitting at his right hand, almost smiles.  
  
"Good," nods the teacher. "Now, turn over your papers, and you may begin."  
  
"Papers?" Colin looks across at Ephram. "What's going on?"  
  
"Yit-gadel ve-yit-kadash shemi raba," says Ephram, tapping the white sheets on their desks. "Oseh shalom bimromav hu ya'aseh shalom aleinu v'al kol yisreael v'imru amen."  
  
Colin stares. "What?"  
  
Ephram sighs, rolling his eyes.  
  
"I don't understand... what you said?"  
  
Ephram turns away. Colin turns over his paper.  
  
There's a little note at the top. It reads "Special Paper! Colin Hart only!" There are two questions, in black, bullet pointed and separated by half a blank sheet.  
  
"Who are you?" Colin reads aloud. "What do you want?"  
  
"That's a total rip off," says Wendell, leaning over his shoulder to look. "I'd complain if I were you."  
  
Colin looks around the room. The teacher is leaning over Ephram's work, saying "...rates letter 'B' on the industrial scale. You're improving."  
  
"Am I?" asks Colin; it's drowned by another ringing bell. "What's the sound?"  
  
"That bell sound?" asks Ephram, standing in front of his desk, bag slung over one shoulder, clutching a pile of comics to his chest. "It's a bell. It means it's over."  
  
"Come on," calls Bright from the doorway. "We've got to get to Graduation."  
  
"Graduation?" asks Colin, getting to his feet. "Isn't that next year?"  
  
But there's no-one there. No-one in the room. He rushes out through, half sliding, and only just manages to catch himself on the trophy case before he would have ran bang into Doctor Brown.  
  
"Doc? What's going on?"  
  
"I know nothing about a brain," says Andy, sadly. He's holding the team photo. The glass is cracked.  
  
"You're lying!" Colin backs away, turns to run. Comes face to face with himself.  
  
"Guess what?" says other Colin. Not quite himself. Same yellow and red jacket but. Features too pale. Dusty. He's wearing a medal around his neck with "#1" carved large into it and carrying a silver covered tray.  
  
"What?" asks Colin.  
  
The other Colin lifts the cover. "They saved Lex Luthor's brain!"  
  
There's a yellow note on the tray, attached to a small black box. It reads "Lex Luthor's Brain". When he picks it up, the box opens. It plays that tune. A tiny clockwork Amy and clockwork Colin circle and twirl around and around and around each other.  
  
Colin demands:  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Me am superhero!" says Other Colin, like this should be obvious. "Me do everything! Everybody loves me! Me am King of the World."  
  
"No," says Colin, and again, "No."  
  
Clockwork Colin spins around and around and around. Other Colin looks on in glee.  
  
Colin runs.  
  
"Hey!" The other Colin calls after him. "Don't worry! You can be me when you am gone!"  
  
Doors and doors. The sun sets outside. Low lights in the music room. Ephram slouches alone at the piano. One hand is in his pocket and with the other he slaps a finger against the same note, over and over.  
  
Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding  
  
Colin hurries past.  
  
Ding Ding Ding Ding Ding  
  
He stops in the cafeteria to catch his breath, blinking and blinking against the brightness of the lights.  
  
"They saved Lisa's brain," says Delia, sitting on the counter. "And Einstein's. And the President's."  
  
She points to a bowl at each name.  
  
"They saved all the brains, honey," says Nina vaguely, frowning over the bowls. "All these vegetables; I think I'll make a salad."  
  
Colin reaches for an empty bowl, but a hand on his arm stops him. He looks. It's Doctor Brown.  
  
"It could cause irreparable damage to your human brain, Colin," says Andy.  
  
"What am I supposed to do?" asks Colin. "I can't remember. I don't remember."  
  
"What do you want?" asks Andy.  
  
"Everything," says Colin. Then: "Nothing."  
  
"There are an infinite number of outcomes, Colin."  
  
Colin frowns. "Which way do you think it will go?"  
  
"I don't know," says Doctor Brown.  
  
There's too much noise. A Colin or more at every table. Amy twirls past, clockwork Colin large in her arms.  
  
"Don't worry," she calls out. "I'm holding on! I'm holding on so tight!"  
  
"One day," smirks Ephram, "he'll be a real boy."  
  
"Is he dead?" asks Colin.  
  
"Worse than dead," says Bright.  
  
"What do you want?" asks Ephram.  
  
"I want," says Colin. "I want..."  
  
"It's easy," says Bright. "Everything is easy."  
  
At a table, Colin drools. At a table, Colin smiles and waves his limp left hand with his right. At a table, Colin rocks and spits and swears. At a table, Colin frowns while Amy slips a spoon between his lips and wipes at the corner of his mouth. At a table, Colin grins, wide and blank. At a table, Colin writes backwards, pen ripping and tearing at the paper until there's nothing left.  
  
"There are an infinite number of outcomes, Colin," repeats Doctor Brown. And: "I want you to count--"  
  
"Ten little happy fingers and they're mine, all mine," sings out Ephram from the piano. Bright laughs. Delia sings along.  
  
"You have to come back, Colin," insists Amy to the poster in her hands.  
  
At a table, Colin mumbles. At a table, Colin holds court, laughing and rolling back and forth in his wheelchair. At a table, Colin quirks a half-smile from a drooping mouth. At a table, Colin twitches and moans and scratches over and over at his arms until they bleed. At a table, Colin fades away. Amy dances with an outline clutched tight between her fingers. They all fade away. One by one. Counting to none.  
  
"Make your shot," says Bright, and hands him the ball. "It's just a game, right?"  
  
"Three points," says Colin, and throws. He's smiling. He can't stop smiling. The ball rolls off his fingers, smooth and sure.  
  
"Two...  
  
"One..."  
  
And nothing.  
  
Just like he was promised.


End file.
